


A Home We Carved

by teacuptribbles



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/F, M/M, Prison, Racism, Revolution, T'hy'la, Torture, Visions, a weird DS9 crossover that no one asked for, including Garashir, just a tad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuptribbles/pseuds/teacuptribbles
Summary: After coming to the aid of a ship of vedeks, the USS Enterprise has been welcomed on Bajor.  While at temple, the Prophets lead Spock on a vision that warns of the rising Cardassian State.





	1. Prologue

_“Gentlemen, he said_

_I don't need your organization, I've shined your shoes_

_I've moved your mountains and marked your cards_

_But Eden is burning, either getting ready for elimination_

_Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards.”—Changing of the Guards, Bob Dylan_

 

_“Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,_

_Because we know each other, crack and flaw,_

_Like two irregular stones that fit together._

_Yet still good-by, because we live by inches_

_And only sometimes see the full dimension._

_Your stature's one I want to memorize--_

_Your whole level of being, to impose_

_On any other comers, man or woman._

_I'd ask them that they carry what they are_

_With your particular bearing, as you wear_

_The flaws that make you both yourself and human.”—From “Stepping Backward,” Adrienne Rich_

 

**Prologue**

Bajor was unlike any planet Spock had seen.  Its ecological and biological diversity rivaled even that of Earth.  The tropical areas were a cornucopia of lush, colossal trees that emitted so much vapor they appeared to breathe.  The wet air felt foreign against his skin, but it did not detract from the supernatural beauty of the place.

He walked behind his captain to the temple, which was shrouded by large overhanging leaves.  Leading up to it was a running stream, punctuated by flat stones used for stepping.  The Bajoran monk--a _vedek_ , they had learned--led the way.  His red robes contrasted brightly against the green of the scenery.

Spock typically took up the rear when he and Jim Kirk walked somewhere together.  If someone were to try and attack, it was logical for the taller and stronger first officer to be in the more vulnerable position.  He did not permit himself, of course, to think about how lovely Jim’s blonde waves appeared in the sunlight.

The USS _Enterprise_ had responded to a distress call from a ship of _vedeks_ and their followers the day prior.  They were en route to the Cardassian world Simperia when it became clear that the ship had more than a few bad couplings.  Nothing a Starfleet engineer couldn’t fix, but the congregation had been so grateful they insisted on hosting the crew on Bajor.  

Prior Federation contact with the planet had been tentative.  The Bajorans were an advanced but apprehensive people.  Their customs, based on deity worship, could conflict with Federation principles at times.  Relations had been friendly overall, however, and Jim had jumped at the chance to see this little known place.

The serious tranquility of the temple tugged at something nostalgic in Spock.Vulcans gave up gods long ago, but they retained the contemplative practices, seeking enlightenment from within rather than from above.This concern with discipline and insight was considered antiquated by many other humanoids, but the Bajorans also seemed to embrace it.

When the temple’s heavy wooden doors were opened by Vedek Taru, the warmth of several lit candles greeted them.The flickering flames served as the only light, casting the room in a pale shade of yellow.Sweat began to dew on Jim’s brow.He glanced at Spock, who didn’t seem to notice the heat at all.

The monk turned to them.“The Prophets brought your ship to us when we were in need.We thank the Prophets by worshipping them at the temple, and we thank you by sharing the Prophets’ gift.However, the Orb of Prophecy and Change is powerful, and cannot be experienced by just anyone.”He reached for Jim’s ear and held it between his thumb and forefinger.Spock took a step forward.

Vedek Taru closed his eyes and nodded.“Yes, your _pagh_ is strong.Very strong.You are a man of conviction.”

“I like to think so.”Jim glanced over to Spock, who appeared very unamused.

When Vedek Taru released Jim and turned to reach for Spock’s ear, Spock flinched away.Jim touched Taru’s arm lightly.“My friend here is a Vulcan.Vulcans have sensitive ears.”

He was unfazed.“I am aware.Please, allow me.”

Spock gave him a small permissive nod.Shortly after grasping Spock’s ear, he pulled away, eyes wide.“You.You must see the Orb.Perhaps you will see something from which we can all learn.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose.“I do not follow.”

“You will soon, my brother.The Prophets can be vague, but they take care of us.Please come with me.”He tugged just slightly at Spock’s sleeve.

Jim watched as Spock’s composure began to fall.Typically Spock was the paragon of control, with his clasped hands and firm expression.Now he did not seem so tall, and his eyes widened with anxiety. 

Their eyes met, as they often did.Jim nodded and gave Spock a reassuring smile.“It’s alright, Mr. Spock.I’ll wait for you here.” 

Spock looked over Jim’s soft, flushed face carefully.His captain was nervous but trying to bury it with a gentle smile, as he was wont to do.Spock’s anxiety would only serve to burden him further.He nodded back and followed Vedek Taru to the next room.

He was instructed to sit in front of an impressive mahogany chest, its cover engraved with the byzantine letters of ancient Bajoran.He crossed his legs as he waited for further instruction.

“An Orb journey is something deeply personal.I will take my leave now.Try to make yourself comfortable.When you’re ready, open the chest and gaze into the Orb.Do you have any questions?” 

Spock could see in Vedek Taru’s youthful face that he was eager for Spock to complete this task, which did nothing to put him at ease. He simply shook his head, which prompted Taru to smile at him and leave.

He attempted to do as instructed.He removed his shoes and set them aside, switched the cross of his legs.Inhaling deeply through his nose, he tried to steady his mind. _There has been no indication that you will be harmed.Your fear is illogical._

When he was as calm as was achievable, he reached forward and unlatched the chest cover.He pulled the chest open to reveal a striking green-gold light.The light was bright but not searing, and within it danced a number of glittering white stars.No man, even a Vulcan, could deny its beauty.

He watched the stars until they seemed to dance around him.They danced and danced and pulled him closer with every wink. 


	2. Chapter One: Green Blood

**Chapter One: Green Blood**

Spock awoke to the taste of blood in his mouth.  Instinctively he moved his tongue to find the source.  What he found was an empty space where a molar decidedly _should_ have been.  
****

The action uprooted a clot that had protectively formed over the wound.  He spat it out on the concrete ground and lifted his gaze to see that everything around him, aside from a thin mattress, was concrete.Gray concrete walls, gray concrete ceiling, gray concrete toilet.The door to the room was heavy black steel.No glass.

Prison, he remembered.  He was in prison.A Cardassian prison.

“Green Blood, are you still alive?”

A male voice spoke in broken, Standard-accented Vulcan.  The voice was familiar, and hearing it prompted Spock to stir to awareness.

“Yes,” he croaked out in response.

“Incredible.  They must really want whatever it is you have.”

Spock had never seen the man who called him Green Blood.  Cardassian detention centers were built to deter bonding: there were no cellmates, and inmates in cells located next to one another were carefully maneuvered to prevent contact.Guards did rounds every fifteen minutes and any small talk was quickly and forcefully suppressed.  

All his neighbor knew about him was that he was Vulcan, a guess made by the deliberate, analytical way Spock spoke Standard.  Spock, in return, had heard a vaguely American accent and deduced the man was Terran.

The man spoke again.“Whatever it is, it can’t be worth dying for.”

When Spock attempted to move off of the floor, a flash of white caught his breath and forced him back down.  He cautiously reached his fingertips to inspect his face.  Orbital fracture.When nausea hit against his esophagus, he knew he was concussed.He lied on his stomach, cheek turned to the cold ground.No dignified Vulcan would assume such a position, but no dignified Vulcan would end up in a Cardassian prison.

“When is my execution date?”

“Thirteen days from today.They must have bashed your head good for you to forget that.”

“Indeed.”

“You do know that is unprecedented for an 'enemy of the state.'”

“Yes.”

The Cardassian judicial system did not allow for time to pass between arrest, judgment, and sentence.Any individual convicted of a major crime against the State was executed for the delight and reassurance of the citizens the following day.Unless, of course, they had valuable information.

Denied a clock, Spock was unsure of how much time had passed since he awoke.Another round had to be coming soon.

He cleared his throat.  “I need you to talk to me as regularly as you can.I am currently unable to assess the extent of my concussion, and falling asleep may be fatal.”

A harsh whisper came from the small vent that provided the room’s only ventilation.“Okay, Green Blood, but you need to shut up right now.”

They listened to the pair of boots approach their area.Spock heard the sound of a door sliding open and closed as the guard looked into his neighbor’s cell.He braced himself for the light and interaction that would come when his door was opened.

The light from the observation area was severe, and he winced when it reached his face.But he was not laughed at or kicked.Instead, the guard stepped over him, took a quick survey of the cell, and left.If Spock were to die tonight, no one but the man on the other side of the wall would notice.

***

“You still not gonna tell me what a Vulcan is doing in Central Prison?”

Spock and the Terran spoke throughout the evening.Spock relied on the Terran’s seemingly impeccable internal clock to keep track of rounds while the Terran relied on Spock’s acute hearing to determine how close the guard was.This dynamic kept them from being discovered while they talked.

“I cannot say.”Spock drank from the toilet bowel to soothe his aching throat.He had been denied fresh water as part of his never ending interrogation.

“Damn.I’m so curious.How are you feeling?”

He palmed some water and ran it over his face.“Not…well.But I will manage.”

A strange laugh, almost like a giggle, came from the vent.It did not seem to fit with the man’s voice.“I don’t know whether I admire you or pity you.”

Spock thought about the members of his resistance cell.He thought about the space they had carved for themselves in a cold, dark cave.He could smell the damp and dust, hear the echo of their voices and the whirring of the replicators and heaters against the stone walls.Though his parents still resided in his childhood home on Vulcan, and though he had an apartment in the city, that cave was what he thought of when he heard the word _home_. 

“What will happen to you?,” he found himself asking the Terran, surprising himself.

The pause on the other end indicated the man shared Spock’s surprise.“I’m just a pickpocket.They’ll use me for labor until I drop dead.Have you ever seen the old Cardassian inmates here?The hunched over ones with missing fingers, or a limp?That’s going to be me, only thankfully I’ll live a lot less long.”

Spock had to admit he found some solace in the inevitability of his execution. 

“Do you have anyone on the outside?Vulcans get married young, right?”

The question made Spock bristle, and he ignored it as he continued to use the water from the toilet bowl to clean his face and underarms.

A sigh came from the vent.“I’m sorry, I know you guys don’t like to talk about that stuff, but you can’t blame me for being curious.I’m so fucking lonely, and I don’t know a lot of Vulcans.”

The man’s voice broke in places, pulling on Spock’s heart.He shuffled away from the toilet to be closer to the vent.“To answer your inquiry, yes.Vulcan families typically participate in arranged marriages for their children.”

An understanding pause.  “But you are not typical.”

“…No.”

“I’m not either, believe me.It’s almost time.Keep your ears open.”

Despite the fact that his neighbor could not see him, Spock nodded.He pressed his ear against his cell door and waited.

***

As the other inmates were receiving their routine breakfast of fish broth, Spock was escorted to his routine 0700 meeting with the interrogator.

Due to the nature of the ordeal, the interrogator’s name was well hidden.His desk was bare.The assistants who appeared on either side of him were careful to only use _Rhodrun_.*

The interrogator was tall and muscular for a man with a gray head of hair.His outfit of black body armor exaggerated the width of his shoulders.With deliberate steps, he approached Spock slowly.Only when their eyes were directly across from one another did he stop.

“You washed yourself.”

Spock felt the man’s breath against his face.

“Obviously.”

That earned Spock a swift punch to the gut.“That was very stupid of you.If you hadn’t noticed, we haven’t been taking you to the sonic showers with the others.There’s a reason for that.”

As Spock slumped over, the interrogator crouched down to look in his eyes.“I know what kind of a man you are.You were so pretty when you came to us.It must make you crazy that you can’t straighten your hair or powder your face.Isn’t this all so very _unrefined_?”He gave Spock a snarling, predatory smile.“When you’re returned to your cell, you will hand your toothbrush to the guard.I don’t look forward to the smell of your breath, but you insist on doing this to yourself.”He stood and called for an escort over his room’s comm. 

That was the last he interacted with Spock that day.Some mornings Spock received a full beating, other mornings he was let go after a few simple questions.Spock knew this inconsistency was tactical, a way to further unsettle him.

It was, perhaps, the most logical way to torture a Vulcan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *According to stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda, "Rhodrun" is a Cardassian term of respect used for elders. 
> 
> A few words: this fic might mean more to me than any other I've written. I worked in a county jail for two years, which influenced and changed me greatly. I'm using that experience for the next few chapters in which Spock is in Cardassia's Central Prison.
> 
> I have pulled from both canon and non-canon sources for the DS9 stuff, and I will clarify/credit as things come up.


	3. Chapter Two: Central Command

** Chapter Two: Central Command **

There was a period in Jim Kirk’s life when he could sleep.

When he was at home in Iowa, he would crack his bedroom window to let in the cool breeze, and the sound of crickets would send him to dream.Even in his cramped Starfleet Academy dorm the hours of exercise and studying left him exhausted enough to sleep soundly.  As the youngest Starfleet captain on record, he did not sleep much, but he knew he had a solid, reliable crew, and that security alone helped him rest.

Those times were long gone, though.

He doubted that anyone living under the Cardassian State slept well.Humans, Vulcans, Andorians, Tellarites, Trills, Bajorans, and hell, probably even Cardassians had to know they were always a target.The amount of resources the State spent on containing dissidents and conspirators had no limit.This included fabricating allegations to string up innocent civilians as examples. _Children, this is what can happen if you stray from serving Mother Cardassia._  

Since Spock had been arrested a month ago, Jim slept hardly at all.No one in their resistance cell did.They fitted their apartments with cameras, locks, and alarms; all illegal, clearly, but such illegality was minimal in comparison to what they did in those apartments.

Jim could care less if the Cardassian police broke down his door and shot him where he stood.All he wanted was for Spock to be safe.In a bizarre, horrible way, Jim was now grateful for public executions; he knew how long he and their friends had to get Spock out.Because he had to get him out.There was no alternative.

Before he prepared for work, he looked at his favorite image of Spock.He had printed the photograph and kept it in his desk drawer.The image was not as high resolution as it would be on a padd, but he enjoyed feeling it in his hands. _Illogical_ , he smirked.

Spock had been sleeping.Jim knew taking a photo of him under such circumstances was questionable, but he couldn’t resist preserving what he saw.His _t’hy’la_ was always so meticulously put together, but in sleep he lost a bit of that regal bearing.That morning he had been particularly messy.Jim could not remember what had occurred the night before to tire him so, but he slept until the early afternoon.Normally a stiff supine sleeper, Spock had rolled to his side and tucked his hands under the pillow.His silky black hair stuck out in a hundred little pieces.To Jim’s disappointment, he always insisted on wearing a tunic to bed, but this morning it had ridden up to expose the trail of dark hair on his stomach.

Jim looked at the image for as long as he could stand it, drinking in every contour of Spock’s body.He could almost feel the heat of him now, perhaps an effect of the telepathic connection that hummed in Jim’s mind constantly.That hum was all he had.

He returned the photograph to its place and began his walk to the Imperial Plaza.The plaza was, like every landmark in Cardassia City, a massive concrete structure in a shade of grayish ochre.It was framed on either side by towering, curved columns that came to a point on the end.He passed by statues of Cardassia’s most cherished: Urrent Gar, Tret Akleen, Gul Takar.*  Jim had seen these statues every day for fifteen months, and he still could not tell them apart.It seemed the heroes were all depicted as the ideal Cardassian man: tall, older, arms at sides and back straight.  Individuality was not something the Cardassians cherished.

Central Command had an aggressive beauty to it.It was a rectangular multilevel building, the top of which sloped to a sharp point.It too was framed by curved columns, as though it were being cradled in the palm of giant monitor lizard.Jim wondered if this architecture was a deliberate homage to their fearsome ancestors.

Like all empires before it, Cardassia used its oppressed for the labor now deemed beneath Cardassians.And the oppressed, uprooted and hungry, could only comply.

Luckily for Jim, Cardassians were repulsed by trash, and Central Command was full of _guls_ and legates who could not bring themselves to return their used plates to the replicator.

And Cardassians _loved_ to talk.

When Jim entered through Central Command's heavy sliding doors, a retinal scan identified him.A guard compared his teeth to the computer’s records for a second verification.He then went to the screen that told him which wing of the building he was assigned to.

The east wing.Legate Derak’s office. _Excellent._

This was the kind of task that could help Jim get out of his head.

After receiving the permissive ring, Jim stepped into the legate’s office.It was not the grandest office in Central Command, but it was far from mediocre.A huge window provided an expansive view of the city, and an antique cabinet displayed fine bottles of _kanar_.

Now Legate Derak was splitting such a bottle with a man Jim recognized as Gul Laufak.Derak gave him a quick look of recognition before gesturing to the cluttered desk between them.

Jim began removing their plates as they spoke through him.As was the case with all aliens under Cardassian rule, Jim’s universal translator had been removed.

Laufak leaned back as Jim took his napkin away.“Does he speak Cardasda?”

Derak shook his head.“Only polite phrases.”

“This one is really pink, isn’t he?”

The comment earned a snort from Derak.“Pink and soft.Humans have no natural defenses at all.It’s astounding.He’s thorough, though, and quiet, so I request him often.”

Jim placed the remnants of their lunch in the replicator before moving on to the shelves and counters in Derak’s office.Cardassians as a whole had little faith in self-cleaning features, and Derak had no faith in them at all.

With gloved hands, Jim wiped the surfaces and corners.Each wipe turned up as white as it was before being used.

“I think Castellan Duran is insane for considering an attack on the Klingon Empire right now.”

Jim wiped more slowly.Derak frowned deeply before pouring himself more _kanar_.“I could have you arrested for saying that.”

Laufak rolled his eyes.“It’s too early and you know it.”

“We have Federation resources.Several armies worth of weapons.What do the Klingons have?Just their barbarism!”Derak’s tone was sharp with warning.

“What we got from the Federation was _defensive_ weapons.We can’t compare to the Klingon's offensive abilities, not yet.And what about the Romulans?”

A snort of derision.“What about them?You can’t seriously believe that the Klingons and those pointy-eared sons of bitches would join forces.Have you ever seen a Klingon and Romulan in the same room?You haven’t, because they can’t stand each other.”

Jim took his time removing tiny dust particles from the surface of a vase.He inferred from their quarreling that they were familiar.What the relationship was, he couldn’t say.After three years on Cardassia Prime, he still found it near impossible to assess a Cardassian’s age.

Laufak stood abruptly, his fists round and tight.  “I expected more of you, Zil.If we allow ambition to overtake caution, we will lose all that we have.”

The legate’s eyes darkened with anger as he looked at the younger man.“Get back to work.”

With that, Derak and Jim were left alone.When Jim finished cleaning, he turned to Derak with his best dumb and innocent expression.  Derak waved him to the door.

Before leaving to his next assignment, Jim turned to Derak and bowed his head.  "Thank you," he said in Standard.  Derak nodded and waved him off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Urrent Gar and Tret Akleen are mentioned as prominent founders and rulers of the centralized Cardassian government in the DS9 novels. Gul Takar is some guy I made up.


	4. Chapter Three: Tho, No, Nirsh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depiction of violence and torture ahead.

** Chapter Three: Tho, No, Nirsh **

“The names.”

Pain ran from Spock’s pronounced Vulcan sensory tracts to his parietal lobe.It was so searing, so white hot and unprecedented, that Spock crumbled to the ground.

“ _Tho_.”Spock replied in Cardasda. 

The interrogator stonily moved his hand to the remote control and pressed a button.The pain again, only it reached every extremity, every nerve in every fingertip.

“The names.”  

“ _No_.” Spock replied in Standard.

Another calm press of the button.Pain, dear Surak, the pain.Not just physical, not just mental.It manifested in every pore and filament and freckle.  Spock cried out despite himself, his roar bouncing off the soundproof walls.

“The names.”

“ _Nirsh_.”Spock replied in his first language.

The Cardassian walked—strolled—over and lowered his knees so he could get a good look of Spock’s eyes.“I'm the best interrogator Cardassia Prime has to offer.If anyone can break a Vulcan, it’s me.”He looked at one of his officers and gestured over his shoulder.“We’re going to try something a little less sophisticated.Get me a bucket of water.”

Spock was lifted off the ground by his underarms and stretched out on a table.Restraints were fastened around his wrists and ankles, tight enough to already tear into the skin.Fabric was wrapped around his face and over his mouth.  The fabric was black enough to block out any light, and he had to rely on his hearing and touch to understand the scene around him.  He heard the all too familiar sound of heavy boots against concrete.  Water sloshing around in a container.  Cardasda words under breath.

Water went up his nose and down his throat, causing his body to jump and tense against the restraints, cutting him further.  He coughed and coughed, his lungs desperate to protect him from a death by water.

_Stop.You are not drowning._

The water came faster as he turned his face away from the stream.A pair of hands held his head in place.

_You are not drowning._

His stomach pushed against his diaphragm as his body did everything it thought it could to save him.In a distant, quiet part of his mind came the first sign of surrender, a voice that said _this will be over if you give them something._

He returned to the night Jim kissed him for the first time.They were both sleep deprivedand battered after leading a bombing of a weapons manufacturing plant.Spock had taken a good amount of damage in his distracting of four Cardassian guards on his own: multiple phaser burns, three fractured ribs, a broken nose and wrist.Green-black hematomas covered his body and he had slipped a disc in his lower back.He was unable to move efficiently on his own, and despite his insistence otherwise, Jim remained glued to his side.

_“I never should have left you alone.You could have been killed.”_

_Spock pulled a sheet up to his chin.As his body convalesced, his temperature freely fluctuated between too warm and too cold.“Leal and Salir required your surveillance more than I.They could not have executed the plan successfully without you.”_

_Jim sighed and looked to the ceiling, his hands falling to his sides.“Don’t you ever get tired of sacrificing?Look at you, Spock.”_

_Spock was tired, and he hurt.Badly.Not that he was going to give voice to it.“The future of the Federation is kept alive in us.If I die for it, then so be it.The needs of the many—“_

_“Outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.I know.”Jim looked at Spock.Spock wanted to see the unwavering, ever hopeful smile Jim did so well.Instead, he saw fear.“I’m prepared to die for this, you know that.But letting you die is something different.”_

_Spock tilted an eyebrow.“That is illogical.”_

_“Yeah, it sure as hell is.”Jim placed his hand in Spock’s, bringing a green flush to the Vulcan’s cheeks._

_“Jim, I appreciate the gesture, but I believe you are aware—“_

_“I almost lost you.I can’t lose you.I have no idea what I would do without you.”_

_Jim looked at him with soft, rounded eyes, eyes that were golden brown and glinting with feeling.Spock could feel his fear and affection through the sharing of skin.He wanted—and did not want—to pull his hand away.From the moment they met he found many of the human’s aspects to be endearing: his infectious smiles, the soft yet strong way he carried himself, his determination and altruism._

_But restraint was part of the Vulcan condition, and it won over his attraction all the time._

_Jim leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.A human kiss.Downright obscene by Vulcan standards._

_In that moment, he made a conscious decision to let go, and kissed Jim back._

Spock called to mind the warmth he felt at the brush of those lips, the way his heart pounded at the indecent exchange of tongues.The water continued to rain down on him, but he could feel it less and less.He pictured Jim’s face in detail and his body began to relax into a trance.

“Fucking Vulcans,” swore a man in Cardasda, and everything was quiet.

***

As punishment for his reticence, Spock was assigned mine work.  In true Cardassian form, Central Prison's architect had taken great pains to ensure that the inmates never saw the sun.The mines were built as an extension of the detention center.The laborers were grouped together and led en masse down a long concrete hall that sloped down into the ore pits.Gray on gray on gray, with no fresh air to be had.

Spock was still green and black from the interrogation the day prior, and whenever he stepped stabbing pain shot up from his heel to between his shoulder blades.  He was careful to steady his breath and hide his limp, for any obvious injury would make him a target for guards and especially other inmates.  Even if he were lucky enough to be noticed by a new and conscientious guard, the medical staff were no doubt under orders not to treat.     

As he worked in line with the others, he had to be thankful for his heritage.  The lack of circulating air made mining very hot, unpleasant, and dangerous.  The Cardassian inmates were able to work without break, and even in his current state Spock could keep up with them.  But their Bajoran and human comrades were not as fortunate.They became red with overexertion, their skin dry as they could sweat no more, and fell to the floor only to pushed to their feet with an electric shock from a guard’s baton. 

On their five minute water break, Spock was forced to stand in a corner and watch the rest of the work crew line up to have their bottles refilled.  He watched the fresh, clear water fall from the spout into their bottles, small droplets dispersing as it did so.  He was too aware of how much his throat itched, how his tongue scratched the sides of his mouth.  He moved his eyes away only; turning his head would be too obvious. 

He used to hate getting wet.  Rain bothered him, the way it displaced his hair and chilled him to his core.

_"You've never really seen snow, huh?  You'll get plenty of it when we visit my folks for the holidays, when this is all over."_

He swallowed, something that was growing more difficult to do, and vowed to never forsake rain again.

As the crew returned to their stations, he felt a brush against his back.He looked over his shoulder to see the back of a Cardassian as she walked away.On the ground was a folded paper note.

Keeping his head up, Spock stepped on the note and dragged it closer to him.He glanced at the two guards pacing across the overlook.When they paused to talk to one another, Spock lowered a knee to pick it up.

_Tomorrow, 0100_

_MELEK-7-0-3-RED_

He scanned the note just long enough to commit it to memory.Then he put it in his mouth and ate it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cardassian language resource: http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda
> 
> Vulcan language resource: http://tshala.tripod.com/vul-dict.html


	5. Chapter Four: Names

** Chapter Four: Names **

At 0050, Spock gripped a corner of his mattress, dug in his fingertips, and tore it off. 

Inmates were not provided with sheets, given the multitude of misdeeds that could be accomplished with them.  Likewise, they were given one gray jumpsuit; if it was soiled, they would not receive another, and the only reason they were allowed underwear was for the comfort of the Cardassian employees. 

Spock took a moment to appreciate that his jailers were unaccustomed to Vulcan strength before flushing the mattress piece down the toilet.He removed more stuffing from inside the mattress and flushed it as well.

Predictably, water rushed up and poured out from the bowl.As he repeated the action, water spread to under his feet and under the heavy steel door to his cell. 

_“Skragh!"*_

He recognized the voice of Melek, a young and green officer.He listened to the thumping sound of boots as they stormed down a set of stairs to his cell.

 _"Braka zum'la!”*_ Pointy-eared bastard.

Melek pressed a button and had Spock’s arm in seconds.In the rush of anger and frustration, he had a phaser in Spock’s chest without securing his other arm.Spock reached around and pinched the trapezius muscle under the officer’s neck ridges.He collapsed against Spock, unconscious.

He took the large phaser rifle, plus a smaller one on Melek’s hip, and ran to the console of the cell next door.“Melek-7-0-3-red!”

When the door slid open, he did not see the man he had been picturing.  Whenever he had heard the man's voice, Spock had imagined him as a man in his thirties with an American look, sandy blonde hair and a farmer's tan.  Later he would realize that this was wishful thinking on his part, a way to fill the void of Jim's absence. 

Instead the man was a Cardassian, a small one as far as male Cardassians went, who had the awkward proportions of an adolescent.He had round, lively blue eyes that looked at Spock confidently.“I know I am not who you were envisioning, but this is really not the time to freeze.” 

Spock shook off the shock and tossed him the smaller phaser.As soon as the weapon hit his hands, the boy was running.“Just stay on my heels and watch my back!”Spock was in no position to refuse.

It did not take long for the prison's control room to notice what had happened.  Alarms blared above their heads as they darted down the prison's long hallways.  Voices demanded their surrender.

When they reached their first keypad, Spock was certain this was an exercise in futility.  Cardassian security, with its layers of passcodes and lockouts, was second to none.  

"Override Tilak 8-8-0-1-2-5-7-9 delta," the boy called into the keypad's receiver without pause.  The doors obediently spread.  With no ability to wait, they slid through as soon as the crack was sufficient.

The hallway forked ahead, and four guards from each direction converged upon them.  Spock watched as the boy shot them in quick, clean succession.  As they ran past their bodies, the Cardassian picked up another phaser and told Spock to do the same. 

When they took the right side of the fork, Spock knew they were heading for the mines.  In the distance, but growing ever closer, was the thunderous sound of a dozen guards descending on them.  "The reinforcements are growing in number and getting closer!" 

The boy responded by picking up speed, a motion that Spock matched.  Their heels nearly grazed their buttocks as they raced to the mine shaft.  When they reached the cage that lowered bodies into the mines, the boy came to an abrupt halt, nearly skidding into the structure.  Spock ran into the cage and turned to look at the boy, his brows raised in alarm and confusion.

"Go, you fool!," the Cardassian hissed.  Spock frowned and gripped the boy's arm.  With one quick motion he pulled the boy into him and pressed the button that began their descent.

"They can operate the control from the outside as well."  Spock observed, hoping the boy knew a way around this. 

The boy breathed heavily against his shoulder, almost gasping.  "...Yes...let's...hope...not...too...soon."

When the cage jerked with a sudden stop, Spock aimed his rifle at the cables keeping them suspended.  He glanced at the boy in the dying light, who nodded between inhales.  Spock fired.

As the cage hurled downwards, they both bent their knees and lowered their centers.  No amount of anticipation could have prepared them for the crash.  It was a loud mess of screeching metal and their own groans as they were flung into one another.  Spock heard a few crunches and hoped they were expendable bones.  He was the first to crawl out from under the wreckage, pulling the boy behind him.         

"Are you alright?," he asked, unable to see the boy in the pitch dark of the mines.

The boy cradled his left hand, but otherwise seemed unharmed. "Physically I may have broken my wrist, but nothing serious.  Time will tell of the mental wounds.  You?"

Spock hurt like hell, blindingly, all over.  He took a step, relieved to see his legs were functional enough.  "I will manage."

"Listen to the sound of me breathing." 

It wasn't difficult to do, as the boy was still struggling for a decent breath.  "Are you sure--"

"I'm _quite_ sure that I'm fine, thank you."  There was an edge to his voice that told Spock to drop it.  Spock focused on following him as closely as possible, his fingertips touching the mine's wall for guidance.

Spock heard trickling and realized they must be approaching the runoff.  Cardassia, with its focus on industrial development and domination of the Alpha Quadrant, had never been one for environmental regulation.  They lowered themselves into the pipe that eventually led to a stream. 

"Crawling in this waste is no doubt going to take years off of our lives, but small price to pay, eh?"

Even in such a circumstance, a Cardassian could not resist talking.  Spock did not reply. 

***

The first exposure to light was painful.  Even though the brightness of Cardassia Prime's dark reddish sun paled in comparison to that of Vulcan's two golden suns, the sunlight hurt Spock's eyes, now accustomed to shadows.  They watered uncontrollably.

There was no time to adjust his vision or reflect upon this flush of freedom.  The Cardassian boy took off running through the rust-colored stream that snaked its way through a desert wash.  Spock followed, adrenaline allowing him to ignore his worsening injuries and the thorny cacti that caught the bottoms of his thinly covered feet.

The boy turned through the wash as though he knew it intimately.He was light on his feet and turned around corners with an impressive combination of caution and certainty. 

A booming voice came over Cardassia City’s ubiquitous speakers.“TWO ENEMIES OF THE STATE AT LARGE: VULCAN, MALE, HEIGHT 183 CENTIMETERS…”The voice, of course, made no mention of the fact that this was an escape from Central Prison.

Spock was reminded of one of his favorite excursions as a child.The washes were less pronounced on Vulcan, the planet not having a monsoon season as Cardassia did.But the occasional rains carved the sand into gashes all the same, and Vulcan children loved to run and fight in them. 

This was before the children realized that such an activity called back to an era when Vulcans were warriors, that such excitement and exuberance was unbecoming of them as present Vulcans

But as Spock ran, the blood thrumming through his heart, he felt something primal stir within him, and for a flashing moment he did not hate it.

He admonished the sensation as illogical and inappropriate for the task at hand and tucked it aside

The Cardassian scrambled up out of the wash.They were facing the back of a rundown home, its roof dotted with missing tiles and the surrounding land overgrown with dying yellow grass.Quickly yet precisely, the boy pressed a number of buttons on the outside of the door.When they heard the thud of the door closing behind them, they both started gasping for breath.  

As the painkilling epinephrine wore off, Spock could feel everything.  The torn ligaments in his knees, the cracked ribs, the thorns in the bottom of his feet and palms of his hands.  Slowly he guided himself onto the sofa, hoping the young Cardassian would not take too much notice.

For a while they were silent together, breathing off the fear.The Cardassian was the first to move.Spock watched him carefully as he went into another room and returned with tweezers and a dermal regenerator.He offered them to Spock.

Spock shook his head.“You deserve the first treatment.”

“Vulcans.Such fans of martyrdom.”He flashed Spock a smile that Spock found both disarming and unsettling.

The boy removed his prison-issued canvas shoes. They were soiled with barbs and dirt and blood. 

Spock looked around the house.It was compact.The doors to the bathroom and bedroom were visible from the living area.However, as undistinguished and barren as it was, it was in much better shape than the exterior would lead one to believe.

“Is this yours?” 

“In a manner of speaking.”The boy’s voice was soft and light, as though he had not just spent hours escaping from a totalitarian government’s custody.

He passed the dermal regenerator over his foot steadily.No signs of pain or disgust.  

Spock furrowed his brows.“How old are you?”

The boy shrugged in response.“I am legally my own person, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That is a bizarre response to my question,” Spock leveled, anxiety returning to his stomach.

He moved on to the other foot.“Is it?”

Spock realized that, thanks to the Cardassian obsession with modesty and utility, he had never seen their bare feet.He was surprised, given their humanoid-typical hands, to see they had short, black claws for toenails.

“You are no petty thief, as you once told me.You are also no Terran, as you had me believe.”  Spock said, his voice tense.

“As you _assumed_.”   The boy passed the tools to Spock. 

Spock peeled the blood-soaked shoes from his feet.“Why speak as an American Terran?”

He smiled at him.“Languages and accents are a hobby of mine, a skill if I may be so bold.Skills grow rusty if not practiced.”

Spock began cleaning up his feet, briefly wondering what evolutionary path had led his people to develop green blood while Cardassians kept the common red.“There was no reason to deceive me.”

The boy huffed.  “Would you have wanted anything to do with me if you knew I were a, how do you say it,  _spoonhead_?” 

Spock looked at the young man seriously.  “I have never used that slur in my life.”

The blue eyes scanned him for a moment that seemed everlasting.  Then came a nod of approval.“You are not like other resistance fighters, S’chn T’gai Spock.”

Though his feet were still raw, Spock jumped off the couch, turning his back away from the Cardassian.“You know who I am. _How?_ ”Panic threatened to overtake Spock as he considered that he was entering a fate worse than imprisonment and execution.

As though hearing his concerns, the young man waved his hand.“It’s alright, I come as a friend.”

Spock kept his muscles tense, ready to fight.“You were planted.”

A shake of the head.“No, no, I was arrested.It is true coincidence we were next to one another, though learning about you prompted me to action.”

He tried to swallow down his nervousness, but his throat was too dry to comply.  “So how do you know about me?”

“I have many knowledgable, and discreet, friends in Central Prison.”

Spock considered this, and what was becoming more and more clear was a safe house.“You are no petty thief,” he stated.

“I am many things, including a petty thief.”Another cloying smile, a lift of the brow ridges.Charm like that was never innate.It was a well-practiced skill, a tool for manipulation and gain.A cold fear sank in Spock’s stomach, a fear quickly replaced by resolve.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy.  “Yes, a thief and a _çlaykothoul_.”*

The Cardassian was standing in a second.Though Spock was several inches taller, the Cardassian approached him until their faces were nearly together.“How _dare_ you,” he seethed.“I love Cardassia!Everything I do is for her.I hate seeing her overrun by blustering _guls_ who put their own egos above the needs of her people, judges who have the _gall_ to tell her citizens what to do with their lives and bodies—“ When he stopped for a breath, his eyes widened.He stepped away from Spock and smiled reluctantly.“Ah, very good.Very good indeed.I always thought Vulcans would make excellent interrogators.” 

Spock briefly considered a mind meld before rejecting the idea.He knew Cardassians were less susceptible to its effects than other humanoids, and he didn’t feel it was necessary.“I believe you support the resistance, and I also believe you would make a valuable addition.However, it is my duty to warn you—“

“Yes, yes, no one will hesitate to kill me if I betray the cause.Believe me, Mr. Spock, I know that line.”He smiled again, though this smile in particular looked more tired than charming.

Spock nodded.“I suppose I should thank you for all that you have done.”

“Think nothing of it.How does the phrase go? _Sarlah etek dvin-tor?"*_ His question was accompanied by a wink.

Spock almost smiled at that.“ _Vu dvin dor etwel.*_ What shall I call you?”

“Lat Kelor, if you would.  Now, my green-blooded friend, is there anything I can get you?”

 _Jim._ The name was so loud and clear in his mind that he almost exclaimed it to the young Cardassian.He straightened his prison jumper.“There is a human—“

“Ah, of course.I had almost forgotten.James Kirk, am I correct?”

This was the moment when Spock had to decide how much to put on the table.  They stared at one another, taking mindful notes and measures. 

Spock closed his eyes and nodded.  "Yes."

Kelor nodded in understanding.  "Consider it done.  Please feel free to use the shower or bath, whichever you prefer.  There is a healthy amount of hypo in the medicine cabinet that you are welcome to as well." 

_"Pakariy malinzayn ça’ada."*_

The young man grinned broadly.  "No need to be so formal, Mr. Spock.  I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) skragh: Cardassian for shit (http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda)  
> 2) Braka zum'la: A Cardassian slur for Vulcans of my own invention (I don't know much Cardassian so this may not be an accurate construction).  
> 3) çlaykothoul: Cardassian for traitor (http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda)  
> 4) Sarlah etek dvin-tor and Vu dvin dor etwel: Vulcan for "We come to serve" and "Your service honors us," respectively (http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/main.php?cmd=e2v&letter=Y)  
> 5) Pakariy malinzayn ça’ada: Formal Cardassian thank you (http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda)


	6. Chapter Five: As a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD

** Chapter Five: As a Friend **

Just as Jim reached for his apartment’s keypad, the door clicked open.

He reached for the phaser under his shirt, only to remember he had come from work. _Shit shit shit._

A young Cardassian—a teenaged Cardassian, from what he could tell—stood in the doorway.“I know this must be disquieting for you, but please do come in.”

Jim didn’t move.“What do you want?”He kept his voice low to avoid cueing the neighbors as to what was happening. _Why didn’t the alarm go off?I know I didn’t forget._

“I come as a friend.”The Cardassian punctuated his sentence with a cordial smile.

“A friend wouldn’t break into my home.”Jim exuded calm, but he wondered if, after all the work and loss, this was the end.

The boy stepped aside, gesturing for Jim to enter the apartment.“This friend will help you set up a better alarm system than that haphazard contraption.Though I admit the sound was a nice touch.It took me a few seconds to realize what the actual alarm was.” 

Salir, the Bajoran engineer in their resistance cell, had developed the alarms.When activated, the alarm emitted a high pitched sound above Cardassian hearing range.This would alert anyone coming home that their space had been searched. 

Salir was quite proud of the device.All of them had outfitted their homes with it.

And this boy knew how to pick them apart.

Jim walked in, keeping his front to the stranger.His apartment appeared to be in the same condition in which he had left it.

The Cardassian, also not turning his back, sat on a stool at the dining table.He motioned for Jim to take the large cushioned chair nearby. 

The politeness of it all bothered him.If the Cardassian was going to kill him, this act made it worse.

When he took a seat, the Cardassian leaned forward.“You don’t recognize me, do you?” 

Jim scanned him carefully.He was short and husky for a male Cardassian, but with limbs that indicated he had not grown into himself yet.He had soft, rounded features that highlighted his youth.His eyes were too large for his face, and a shining blue-gray.

No, he would remember seeing a Cardassian that looked like this.Jim shook his head.

The boy leaned away.“So you haven’t seen the news.I suppose that’s not surprising.Central Command must try to block worker access to media.”

That made Jim’s skin writhe, but he breathed in steadily. _He could be bluffing._ “I wouldn’t know.”

The Cardassian gave him a bright grin in reply.“Oh, I think you do, Captain James T. Kirk.”

Jim was out of his seat before he had time to think.“How the hell do you know that name?”

Then, with brutal, crashing reality, the pieces made sense.The fluent Standard, the alarm, the personal information…

He felt cold down to his center.“What does the Obsidian Order want with me?”

The boy shook his head.“It is not an Order matter.If you had been allowed to watch the monitors, you would have seen that I escaped from Central Prison today, and brought your husband with me.”

Jim’s throat tightened at the word.Interspecies marriages were not allowed by Cardassian law, and hearing a Cardassian describe Spock using that word endeared the boy to him.

He also knew that was the intention.“You have Spock?”

“I wouldn’t say I _have_ him, but yes.” 

Jim tried to look into the blue eyes for truth or falsehoods, but could not read them one way or the other.“How is he?”

He received a fractional shrug in return.“He will live, if a little worse for wear.He certainly doesn’t look like he does in that photograph in your drawer.”

Hot anger cut through the fear sitting in Jim’s gut.“And you have the nerve to say you come as a friend.”

“Oh, it was simply a mere precaution.If I had a room, I would allow you to search it.”He smiled kindly and extended out his palms.

Jim asked for his padd, which the Cardassian handed over without hesitation.He scrolled through reported stories to find Spock’s face.Indeed, the young Cardassian’s face was there as well.They were not listed as inmates, only as enemies of the state at large.

“Now,” it was the first time the stranger’s voice had any impatience to it, “if I were not genuine in my intentions, why would I risk having my face broadcasted to every home on Cardassia Prime, with orders to ‘execute on sight’?”

It was a fair question.Jim turned the padd off.Seeing Spock’s face was a distraction he could not afford right now.“It says your name is Lat Kelor.What is your name, really?”

“Lat Kelor.”

Jim moved the padd back and forth in frustration.“How can I trust you if you won’t even tell me your name?”

The Cardassian placed his elbows on his knees, his once jovial face now grim.“I helped Spock escape to a safe house and came to find you.I am offering my _very_ valuable skill set.This is all at great risk to my life, of course.I am a good friend to have, but you would be pressed to find a worse enemy.”He sat back, his features now relaxed.“So, shall we go see Spock?”

Jim swallowed hard.He had to decide if he was really going to do this.“If you are a rogue Obsidian Order agent, I can’t think of a more dangerous ally to have.How am I supposed to believe that the Order won’t come looking for you and kill us in the process?”

The boy brought his fingers to his chin.“That is a fair question.The truth is, I can’t make any promises in that regard.What I can tell you is that I am no simple rogue agent.I am not a riding hound that has wandered away from its master.” 

Jim desperately wished Spock was here.Though he was a touch telepath, Spock had the uncanny ability to assess people and situations with only a look.He could be overly cautious at times, but he never made a dangerous call.Jim needed that firmness now. 

“Okay.Let’s go.”

***  


Jim wasn’t sure how he would react.He thought he might crumple onto the floor in a pile of tears, or throw himself into Spock’s arms and grip them so tightly he left bruises.He did not think he would freeze, which is what he did.

When he saw Spock, standing and waiting for him in the living room, his legs forgot how to move.Spock’s hair was shaggy and hung in pieces over his brows and the tips of his ears.The beginnings of a beard had filled in Spock’s upper lip and chin.The parts of him that peeked out from under the Cardassian-style gray robe he wore were covered in bruises and cuts.He looked more green than his usual near-white pale. 

His eyes.Those dark, narrow eyes that were so cautious and observant.They lit up when Jim came into their view, but there was a hardness in them that Jim didn’t recognize.His heart dropped.

“ _Spock._ ”The name left his mouth, breathy and urgent.He found his legs again and quickly walked over to him.He clasped Spock’s upper arms in his hands.The sculpted biceps that were once there had thinned. _God, did they feed him at all?_

He needed to see if he tasted the same.Before their lips brushed, Spock spoke, his voice low and raspy with disuse.“Please, Jim.I am glad to see you, but not in front of Kelor.”

“Kelor can deal with it.”Jim pressed his mouth on Spock’s with enough force to move the tall Vulcan backwards.Spock returned it without resistance. 

When they broke away, Spock pulled his human close and placed his nose in the crook of Jim’s neck.“I thought I may never see you again, _t’hy’la_.”

Jim palmed the back of Spock’s neck.“Ssh.Don’t even think about it.We’re here now.”

Spock glanced up to see the young Cardassian smiling at them.He was surprised to see it was not a smile of condescension or derision.Instead, Kelor looked genuinely happy, maybe even touched.

“I will allow you two some privacy, _after_ we attend to some business of course.”

They each nodded and pulled away from one another, though they continued to stand near enough to touch.Spock rested his hand in the middle of Jim’s back.

Jim spoke first, as he often did when they were together.“Are you sure you want this, kid?This house is as nice as it gets for us.We spend a lot of time underground, there are a lot of sleepless nights.I’m sure the lifestyle you had before was glamorous compared to ours.”

Kelor’s mouth pulled to the side in a wince.“Rest assured, I have done my time in dark places.My hands have been dirty.I have no misgivings about what I’m giving up.”

Spock spoke next, and it was painful for Jim to hear how hoarse his voice had become.“You will be an outsider among your people.Your secret will be a burden that you carry, a thing that separates you from everyone you meet.That is difficult for anyone, let alone a Cardassian.Are you willing to bear that?”

Kelor, who up to this point had been almost dismissive in his nonchalantness, paused.Spock’s words seemed to settle over him, and he rubbed his fingers together as he thought.

Then, in a flash, the contemplation disappeared behind the usual charm.He raised his shoulders in a shrug.“Why, Mr. Spock, you have described my whole life.”

Spock nodded, and Jim felt as though Spock and Kelor shared something he could not quite understand.

This was, among many reasons, why Jim needed Spock so.

He squeezed Spock’s upper arm again.“Alright, Kelor.We’ll take you to meet our crew in the morning.”

***

When the bedroom door closed behind them, Jim let out a long sigh.“Strange kid.Really strange.Do you trust him?”

Spock sat on the edge of the bed.“I believe he believes he is being genuine.”

Jim smiled and moved to sit next to Spock.“When someone spends a lifetime lying, telling the truth must become a lost skill.He sure likes you, though.”

“We were housed next to one another.It is only natural.”

“Mmm.” Jim knew it was deeper than that.He knew better than anyone that Spock was rather likeable, and rather oblivious.

As though holding up his own weight was tiring him, Spock leaned into Jim, and Jim guided them to lie on the bed together.The silence and warmth of their bodies curled around them, and they listened to one another breathe.Instinctively Jim’s fingers trailed from the point of Spock’s ear down to his neck and chest.When they slipped under the robe to brush Spock’s navel, Spock pushed them away with such speed Jim startled.

“Jim…,” Spock breathed out, his voice cracking.“I can’t.Not yet.”

Jim felt nauseated as he realized what had just happened.“Spock, I’m so, so sorry.I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to…God, I’m sorry.” 

Spock reached out and touch Jim’s cheek.“There is no need to apologize.I may have overreacted.”

“No!God, no.I can’t imagine what you’re feel—going through.It must have been hell.And I don’t know if I can help you, if I can even begin—“Jim’s eyes were filling with tears as he fumbled for words.

“ _Ashayam_ ,” Spock stroked his cheek again.“There may be a time when I wish to tell you about my experience, but that time is not now.I am just relieved we are here, together.”

Jim nodded and buried his nose in the top of Spock’s head.Freshly washed, the hair had the silkiness he remembered, but the scent was new.He thought of the tidy arrangement of beauty products in their home.He had been careful not to disrupt the organization, knowing Spock would be home again.

For however little sleep Jim got in the past month, Spock must’ve had less still.He nodded off in Jim’s arms, his head resting against Jim’s chest.The weight of Spock’s dense alien frame was uncomfortable, but Jim dared not wake him.He cradled him, desperately wishing he could influence Spock’s mind to be at peace. 

He cried, the tears quietly rolling down his cheeks to land in Spock’s hair.

***

When Spock rolled over, Jim was free to move.And he had to move.He could not stop thinking about what might have been done to Spock.In the Alpha Quadrant, the various societies could be thought of with one word.Vulcans, academia.Klingons, battle.Humans, exploration.And for many, the word associated with Cardassians was torture.

Vulcans were strong.They healed quickly, aged slowly.But mental trauma was much more intangible and unshakable.Jim wondered, considering the telepathic ability of their skin, if physical trauma took more of a toll on Vulcans than simple wounds that could be repaired.

Unable to think about it anymore, he pulled a blanket over Spock before leaving for the rest of the house.

He saw Kelor reading a padd under lamplight.He watched the odd Cardassian for a while.If he had to guess, the boy was on the older side of adolescence, maybe just verging on adulthood.As was the common style for male Cardassians, he kept his hair combed back, though his was longer than was military-approved and kept in a tie.There was little doubt that he possessed cruelty and cunning, but he seemed almost dainty in the way he sat.His legs were delicately crossed and he cradled the padd gently in the palm of his hand.

He must have noticed Jim looking and lifted his head.“Is there something I can do for you?”There was the slightest hint of irritation under the usual politeness.

“Please tell me you have a replicator.”

Kelor motioned his head to the small kitchenette in the corner.“In the wall there, though it is programmed in Cardasda.”

“Not a problem.”

What was a problem was that a Cardassian replicator would only replicate Cardassian products.After a fruitless search for anything resembling beer, Jim acquiesced to one of the fourteen kinds of _kanar_.

“Bring me one, if you would.”

Jim paused and looked at Kelor.The boy rolled his eyes dramatically.“And you humans talk about _our_ prudishness.Cardassians are raised on _kanar_.As someone who is near fluent in Cardasda, surely you know what the word for ‘water’ is.”

He did know.It was _kana._ He ordered another glass of the liquor and brought them to the sitting area.

They sipped in silence for what seemed a long while.Kelor watched the side of Jim’s face.“If it brings you any solace, Spock endured that nasty business with valor.It was quite impressive.”

Jim breathed out loudly through his nose.“I don’t doubt it.I never did.I could feel him sometimes.He tried to block me so I wouldn’t be worried, but—“He looked up to see Kelor staring at him with curiosity.“Sorry, I’ve said too much.Vulcans, you know.”

“Of course.”Kelor leaned back, the chair creaking as he did so. 

Jim tapped the side of his glass.“I can’t stay with him here, can I?”

Kelor shook his head.“I don’t think that would be wise.If, State forbid, we were to be found here—“

“I know.”Jim set down his drink on the small coffee table between them and interlaced his fingers.He and Kelor locked eyes before he continued.“I swear to God, if you hurt him—“

“Please, Captain Kirk, this is tiresome.You could try _thanking_ me for all of this, you know.”

Perhaps he was owed, at least, some courtesy.Jim smiled apologetically.“You’re right, thank you.If your offer is true, it’s generous, to say the least.We need all the help we can get.”He pointed to Kelor’s empty glass.Kelor shook his head.

Jim finished his drink.“Spock won’t say this, so I will.Since you’re a Cardassian, we’re more suspicious of you than we would be someone else.The other members of our cell will feel the same way.We do a background screen on all of our members.We need your name.”

Kelor balked.“I have gone by a dozen different names.My ‘actual’ name will not help you.”

Pushing his blonde bangs aside, Jim gave Kelor an affable grin.“Think of it as a show of good faith.You know our real names.It’s only fair.”

Kelor watched him for a while, eyes cold and breath steady as he considered it.After a long pause, he gave Jim an answer. 

“Garak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lat Kelor was going to be a Cardassian OC, but I wanted to be self-indulgent. Since the timeline here is screwed up and no one knows how Cardassians age anyway, I decided to go with baby Garak.
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading.


	7. Chapter Six: Resistance Cell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory "sorry it has taken so long to update!" comment. Work, moving, side projects, life, you know how it is. I AM still working on this though and here is the next chapter. Thank you all for reading.

** Chapter Six: Resistance Cell **

 

Garak had spent all of his young life among dark thoughts and unlit corners.The shadows of lawlessness were all he knew, and sometimes those shadows were as literal as they were figurative.

The familiarity never rid him of the fear.Each black space struck him with panic.First the palpitations would begin, then the short, desperate breaths. _Grow up, Elim.Are we going to go through this each time?Still?_

When Spock led him to the entrance of the cave at the edge of Munda’ar Sector, Garak paused as the first palpitation hit.He looked over his shoulder to the warehouses and vast empty spaces he knew well from a life recent in his mind.

There were days when being a person of interest in Cardassia City were safer than others.The summer months brought in cooler, rapidly changing winds from the north that, when mixed with the southern heat, released a downpour of rain on the area.The winds kicked up the desert sand with savage bluster, and residents had to wear masks to keep the grains out of their nostrils and mouths.

As both Vulcans and Cardassians were desert dwellers, each had evolved inner eyelids to protect their delicate corneas from flying sand.Despite this adaptation, both Spock and Garak wore thick tactical goggles.Spock to hide the upswept eyebrows that marked his species, Garak for an added sense of security.

Spock waited for him at the cave’s narrow opening, his posture emanating that impatient patience unique to Vulcans.When Garak could not convince himself to step in ( _how do people get in and out of there it looks impossible_ ), Spock reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Suddenly, strangely, Garak felt calmer, and he took a deep breath, believing he would be alright.

There was a poorly lit path between the two jagged walls of rock enclosing them.Spock, having been thin before his imprisonment, slid down the path with little effort.Garak, being of a stocky sort, needed to maneuver more skillfully.He kept his breath tight and stilted.

When he heard the echo of voices, he knew relief was coming soon.He would not be relieved for long, he knew, but he could deal with people easier than he could deal with cold, jutting, trapping walls.

They cautiously walked down a slope that widened into an open space.There was light and warmth—and several pairs of eyes looking at them.

The eyes, while they took notice of Garak, did not stay on him for long.Instead they made hurried motions over to Spock, all eager to greet him.

As he had been trained, Garak took in every detail of the room as quickly as he could.There was no true furniture—too difficult to move in and out of the cave, he suspected.But there were rugs and cushions and sleeping bags.A haphazard, patchwork replicator, along with several other scraps of equipment he didn’t recognize.The room smelled of coffee, Terran coffee, a vile bitter smell. 

He saw another Cardassian looking at him.

That gave him pause.He had not anticipated, was not warned, that another Cardassian would be there.She was small even for a Terran female, let alone a Cardassian one.The features of her face were intense and pointed, accentuated by her sharp black bob.Was she familiar to him, or was it that her face was so extraordinary he could have seen it sculptured in a museum? 

More concerning—was he familiar to her?Her eyes were severe and unflinching in a way that did not sit well with Garak.

“ _T’hy’la._ ” Jim Kirk’s voice broke the Cardassians’ glaring.They turned to watch him approach Spock, lightly take his arm, and kiss him on the cheek.Spock’s cheeks flushed slightly green, earning _awws_ and giggles from the group.

Jim stepped aside to make way for the line of restless friends. _Quite a homecoming._

The first to greet Spock had no polite restraint.He damn near rushed Spock and clapped his shoulders enthusiastically, a gesture that would no doubt rustle the average Vulcan.Spock, however, did not flinch.Garak took note of this.

The middle aged Trill with wild blonde hair then pulled Spock into a tight hug.“Spock!By Kahless, you made it!I knew you would.Not only am I glad to see you alive, but you have won me a considerable amount of McCoy’s money.”

Spock graciously slithered out of the hug and cocked an eyebrow at the Terran standing behind the Trill.“Is Dax speaking the truth, Dr. McCoy?”

“Slander, slander and lies,” the Terran replied, a sly grin on his face.He had an accent Garak had not heard before, and he found it delightful.The man’s voice sounded like it was drenched in the most syrupy _kanar_.

He had a pair of thoughtful blue eyes that warmed when he looked at Spock.“It was nice while you were gone, but I have to admit, it’s nicer having you back.”He and Spock shared a courteous nod.

“That’s it?Even after Spock _escaped from prison_ you two can’t hug?,” Jim teased from the corner. 

“No,” Spock and McCoy replied in unison.They looked at one another, causing McCoy to laugh, and Spock to smile just slightly. 

Waiting patiently for her turn was a Bajoran woman with an imposing countenance.She was tall, as tall as Spock, with a muscular frame and shaved head that said she was going to be no one’s victim.Yet, when she was across from Spock, she seemed shy.She lowered her eyes.“I’m…I’m really happy to see you, Mr. Spock.”Her voice was soft, and sad.Garak watched her with keen interest.

Surprisingly, the little Cardassian woman interwove her arm with the Bajoran’s.“Salir has a wonderful ‘welcome home’ present for you.”

Salir smiled at that, her cheeks turning pink.“It was Leal’s idea.”

“But her work,” Leal added.“I have to admit, Mr. Spock, after the first week I was feeling pretty pessimistic.But Salir kept telling me the Prophets said you would come home, and she slaved over this thing.The recordings were hard to find.”

_Salir and Leal are first names._ Garak tucked that away as well.

Salir pulled a data rod from her pocket and handed it to Spock, who inspected it curiously.“What is this?”

“The audio recordings from a global Vulcan lyre competition years ago.You should have won, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s cheeks darkened emerald at the comment.Dax and McCoy shared mischievous glances.Dax poked Spock in the side with his elbow.“A master of the lyre, eh?How come you’ve never played for us?”

Jim joined the group and wrapped an arm around Spock’s shoulders.“He’s a wonderful musician.Very talented.I think you should play for us sometime, sweetheart.It would certainly boost morale.”

“‘ _Sweetheart_ ,’” McCoy said with a feigned look of disgust on his face.Spock looked like he wanted to disappear.

Leal came to the rescue again, retrieving large pots from another chamber of the cave.“Alright, everyone shut up and let’s eat.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Garak caught Spock laying a hand on Salir’s shoulder.

Proudly, Leal lifted the pot lids and sniffed the steam released by the motion.“The replicator has been acting up, so I was forced to use good ol’ pots and pans.I think I did a decent job.Hopefully the flavors remind you of home, Mr. Spock.”

Dax frowned.“Flavor?In Vulcan food?”

“I scrounged up some fresh _gagh_ for you, you _haket_.*”Leal planted the bowl of squirming worms in the spot that, Garak realized as everyone took seats on the floor, was Dax’s usual.“And managed to pull together some bacon and grits for Dr. McCoy.That’s what you call it, right?”

McCoy gave her a smile.“Yeah, though I don’t want to know what Cardassian hell-creature you got this meat from.”

The act of everyone sitting comfortably in their assigned places made Garak uncomfortable, and his heart started to pick up speed. _Absurd, Elim.You are truly absurd._

He settled on awkwardly sliding between Spock and Salir.This, unfortunately, placed him across from Leal, who was clearly not thrilled about the arrangement either.

Dax pointed a fork in his direction.“Sorry to have ignored you, kid.We got excited over Spock, obviously.What’s your name?”

Garak clung tightly to the breath in his chest.“Garak.”

“Just Garak, huh?”

“Plain, simple Garak,” he replied, painting on his most convincing smile.

The Trill grinned.“You’re hilarious, I can already tell.Alright, plain, simple Garak, I’m Curzon Dax.”He extended a hand in Garak’s direction.Garak, no stranger to the customary greetings of many cultures, grasped his hand and shook it. 

They went around in a circle of cordial, if stifled, greetings.Garak watched attentively as they ate.He had learned long ago that how someone ate could tell you more about them than any counselor’s notes.

Curzon Dax and Leonard McCoy ate in a similar manner.They were the first to take portions and ate—shoveled, to Garak’s sensibilities—with gusto.They spoke between mouthfuls and were not shy about helping themselves to a replicated version of the cloying, carbonated alcohol _prosecco_ that Terrans were so fond of in the morning. 

Jim and Salir also ate in an alike manner, a manner far more interesting.They eyed the pots attentively, as though the pots might get up and walk away.They served themselves large helpings but ate with measure, chewing and swallowing each bite thoroughly.They went back for seconds and thirds and fourths.It was a pattern Garak recognized, and seeing Salir practice it made him feel guilty.

Despite having been effectively starved for a month, Spock was in no hurry to eat.He took larger portions than he normally would, perhaps, but even here he exerted tight control.Each spoonful was approximately the same size, and he waited for everyone else to help themselves before he did.It was exhausting to watch, as was most of the behavior of his people.

He noticed that he and Leal shared the traditional Cardassian style of eating.Slow, disciplined, starting with soup and ending with salad, making appreciative noises as they went along.He found some comfort in that, though he very much doubted she felt the same way.

Garak had pinpointed Curzon Dax as the most verbose of the group early on, an observation that Dax’s manners only confirmed as the morning progressed.He loved the sound of his own voice so much he could have been a Cardassian if his pink skin and spots did not give him away.Garak had to admit he was talented orator, never a bore. 

“Anyway, we need to hurry up with this coup, because I have a woman on Kronos that won’t be able to wait much longer.”

“I’m sure,” Leal crinkled her nose in playful distaste, “you have many women on Kronos you’d like to get back to.”

Dax waved his hand.“No, no.You can’t do that with Klingon women.One is more than enough.”He poured himself more _kanar,_ having moved on from prosecco a while ago.“And, no offense to the Cardassians in the room, but I can’t wait to never have to drink this licorice shit again.”

McCoy raised his coffee mug.“Amen.”

Garak didn’t know the words _licorice_ or _amen_ but the sentiment was not lost on him.“I promise it does, as you say, ‘grow on you.’”

McCoy scoffed.“It hasn’t, but not for lack of trying.” 

Unable to contain his curiosity, Garak asked where McCoy had acquired his accent.A place called Georgia, in the southern United States.As McCoy described the place, Garak could almost feel the humid, languid summers, the air heavy with a sorrowful history.McCoy himself had sorrow in his bones, having been through a tough divorce and having only partial custody of his child before the war.He held back from sharing the worst of it, Garak sensed, but like most parents, he could not resist talking about his daughter, and his eyes lit up whenever he did so.

Aside from talking about his daughter Joanna, McCoy also seemed to enjoy poking fun at Spock mercilessly.He never missed a jab at Spock’s ears or the facial hair he had grown in prison.For every insult, Spock was prepared with a deflection, and Jim Kirk appeared endlessly amused by this.Garak wondered, with some sadness he brushed away as sentiment, if this is what having siblings looked like.

Mika Salir did not speak much, which Garak would learn was typical for her.She, too, had an air of melancholy to her, but unlike McCoy he needed no context for it.There was no Bajoran alive who had not lost all they had to the Occupation.Guilt was nothing new to Garak, but the guilt he felt when looking at Salir was a different beast.Every Cardassian citizen could make a personal apology and pay reparations and it would not be—nor should it be—enough. 

He felt eyes on his skin.When he looked up, he saw Leal’s black eyes watching him closely.She arched her brow ridges pointedly.“So, Garak, what motivated you to join the resistance?”

“Could I perhaps get your surname first?,” Garak replied cheerfully, as though he had not noticed her glaring.“I do not feel I have earned the privilege of calling you by your given name yet.”

She leaned back, looking satisfied with herself.“Tek-Remar.”

Ah.That was why she was so familiar.No wonder she could smell the Order all over him.

“My parents,” she began before Garak could, “were killed three months apart, in separate prisons.I always thought that had a special cruelty to it, forcing mates to spend their last days apart.I wonder, who gave that order?”

Garak knew who had.He had even seen them, Antan Tek and Lila Remar.Not when they were in custody, thankfully, but he had seen their files.Professors of archaeology and computer science, respectively.And active members of the U of U’s dissident movement.They had two daughters.One was sitting here in front of him, picking him apart glance by glance.He tried to remember where the other one was.

“My sister was sent to a labor camp on the northern continent.I have no idea if she’s dead or alive.”The last word was between a question and an accusation.

_I wish I could tell you,_ Garak thought, as the air seemed thicker and the walls closer.The rest of the group had fallen into a tense silence.He had to say something, and quick.

“You asked why I joined the resistance,” Garak diverted, shifting forward as he regained his composure.“There are many aspects of our current government I find troubling.Guls love nothing more than fluffing their own egos, and what kind of a Cardassian places the needs of his bank account ahead of the needs of the State?”He paused.If Leal believed him, she made no indication.Her eyes were still.

“What finally pushed me into action,” he continued, "is that our current _rulers_ find certain aspects of my lifestyle…decadent.”

This was the first time Spock had heard Garak speak so freely.He raised his head, and their eyes met in understanding.The rest of the resistance cell waited with quiet breath as Garak and Spock looked at one another, exchanging something intimate in nature.Garak gave Spock a fractional nod.“I do not believe in fate, or luck.But I know an opportunity when I see one.”

Spock lifted a brow in agreement.“Indeed.”

Jim patted Spock on the knee, an action that caught the attention of an already very drunk Dax.He hiked up his wild, blonde brows.“While we’re sort of on the subject, Jim, I have to ask you something.”

With a small smile of amusement, Jim leaned into Spock’s leg.“Oh?What’s that?”

“Leal and I have a bet going—“

“ _We_ do not.”Leal’s cheeks turned the strange lavender hue of Cardassian blushing.“The bet is only with himself, and it is completely inappropriate.” 

“Oh, Cardassians!”Dax waved with dismissal, the _kanar_ sloshing out of his glass.“You are all so unbelievably prudish I don’t know how your race has managed to sustain itself.I thought humans were a bore after living with Klingons, but Cardassians—“

“What is your question?,” Jim’s tone was edged slightly with impatience.

The Trill’s eyes glinted with mischief.“Is it true Vulcans only have sex once every seven years?”

McCoy shook his head in disappointment.“ _Goddamnit_ , Curzon.”

Leal’s blush deepened, and despite himself Garak began blushing as well.The Cardassians seemed to shrink into one another.

Spock joined them in the action as his face turned green and his leg stiffened against Jim.

Dax raised his hands defensively.“Hey, I’m just curious.It’s not like Vulcans wave this information around on a banner.”

Jim chuckled breathily.“Well, I guess I can’t blame you for being curious, but we don’t kiss and tell.”

Dax shrugged.“Fair enough.I just feel bad for you both if that’s the case.”

McCoy threw a rock, which nearly missed Dax’s temple.The Trill giggled into his drink.

Leal was wringing the bottom of her shirt in her fists.A light giggle escaped from her lips as well, though she did her best to keep it muffled. 

Garak did not laugh, but he allowed himself a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A Cardassian word approximating "freak," of my own invention.

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Explicit for later chapters.


End file.
